Holding On
by acetamide
Summary: Sequel to In Your Honour. Arthur deals with his loss of magic only to lose something much dearer to him.
1. When All This Disappears

_When All This Disappears_

It's been two months now since the druid attack on the castle and Arthur isn't missing his magic half as much as he thought he would.

Merlin is to thank for this. For the first few days he didn't use his magic at all –not even the briefest incantation as he went about his tasks by hand, just sitting with Arthur when his mood darkened. And he would ensure that Arthur was never bored, and wishing for his magic back, but instead out training nearly every day with his knights. It meant that they were apart more than normal but Arthur understood why Merlin was doing it, and was grateful.

Merlin re-introduced him to magic slowly and gently – when the warlock was massaging his shoulders after a particularly rough day with the knights, Arthur swore that he felt a warmth spreading out from his advisor's touch that eased his sore muscles more than usual, but when he turned to look, there was nothing to see. Arthur smiled anyway.

Whenever he returned from hunting or riding or visiting Morgana, his chambers would always be spotless despite the fact that Merlin would never have been able to do manually all the work in the spare time he had. And of course, when Arthur reminded Merlin that he was no longer his manservant, the warlock would just grin and say something idiotic, and Arthur would grimace and punch him in the arm.

When he was summoned to counsel with Uther and the messenger said that the King had specifically asked for Merlin not to come, Arthur spent the afternoon half-listening to his father make plans for the kingdom, finding himself wishing that he could just _leave_, but then his thoughts were interrupted as a rock crashed through the window. Whilst Uther was suitably distracted, the Prince slipped from the Hall and when he reached his chambers, it was to find Merlin fast asleep, curled on the end of his bed, whilst dinner lay spread across the table. He woke Merlin before he began to eat.

It was a month before Merlin started using his magic properly again, and by that point Arthur had come to terms with his own lack of it. He's back into his old routine now, and whilst he still feels a small pang of regret every now and then as he looks after at Merlin and sees his now permanently golden eyes, he doesn't make a fuss.

Besides, he still has Merlin, and that's what's important – nothing else matters.

**

Arthur is reading on his bed when he is disturbed by a horrific scraping noise coming from the opposite side of the room, and he looks up just as a bright light shears through the wall. Dust billows out of the stone as a large shape is traced and then it crumbles, a rough hole left in the wall. Merlin's head sticks through the gap and Arthur feels his own eyebrows shoot up.

"Decorating?" he asks, can hear the sarcasm is his voice, and Merlin steps gingerly over the rocks, waving a hand at them almost absently. They vanish with another explosion of dust and the warlock inhales some of it, coughing violently.

"Thought I'd make a door between our chambers," he explains after a few seconds, once his lungs are clear, and Arthur smirks.

"Because it's such a trek to go out of your door, walk the few steps to mine, and come in," he shoots back, amused, and Merlin shrugs widely.

"I spend most of my time here; it makes sense to have a door. I thought it might be a good idea."

"You didn't think to check first, before ripping a hole in the wall?"

"I didn't think you'd mind."

And of course Arthur doesn't, and he knows that Merlin knows this. So he shakes his head with a smile and returns to his book as Merlin creates a door out of a scrap of wood sitting beside the fireplace. There's a loud thud and the warlock curses.

"I just want to see how you explain this to my father, that's all," he says slyly, glancing back up as his advisor scowls at him.

"There's no reason for him to find out – he rarely comes in here, and he's _never_ going to be found in my chambers, is he? This just makes life easier for all of us."

"Adjoining chambers?"

"I would like to point out that if you want me to continue to clean your rooms, make your bed, and prepare you dinner that you ought to take a less derisive tone with me."

"You know that I don't expect all that from you," Arthur replies quietly, setting his book down on the covers, and Merlin shrugs slightly. He turns to him, all traces of amusement gone from his face.

"I know. But I'm going to keep doing it anyway – I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

"So you've said."

And the atmosphere's become a little too heavy for Arthur's liking, so he clears his throat and pulls himself into a sitting position on his bed, patting the area beside him, and Merlin wanders over.

"I found this in the archives," he explains as his advisor clambers up to sit beside him, picking the book up again. "It's about the use of magic in battle, and I thought that perhaps you might find it interesting," he says, holding out the book, then frowns at Merlin's expression.

"Um, can it wait about half an hour?" he asks, wincing, and Arthur tilts his head to the side in question. "Only I promised Gaius that I'd go and find him some hemlock this afternoon, and if I start reading this, I'll never get it done."

"Hemlock?" Arthur asks, his frown deepening as Merlin slides off the bed. "What's he using it for? Isn't it poisonous?"

"Well, it kind of depends," Merlin replies, raising his voice as he returns to his own chambers. "It can also be used as a sedative – Gaius is working on stronger sleeping draughts for Morgana, to help ease her nightmares."

Arthur's frown becomes something almost close to a pout as Merlin re-enters the room, shrugging on his jacket, and he quickly wipes his face blank. It's an old jacket of his own – it's worn, but Merlin seems to like it. The warlock crosses back over to the bed and Arthur glares up at him balefully.

"You'd better not be long. I'd sort of planned going through this with you," he says morosely, and Merlin laughs.

"I just need to get the hemlock, and then I'll be right back. I'm glad you've reminded me, he would have given me hell if I'd forgotten."

"You'd better be back," Arthur hears himself mutter, then wonders why he's behaving like such a child as Merlin reaches out and ruffles his hair.

"I won't be longer than an hour. I promise."

**

An hour and a half later, Arthur is up at the top of one of the towers, scanning the town below for his advisor, muttering to himself, as the light begins to fade and the book lies forgotten in the bedroom behind him. He's been waiting now for a while and though he shouldn't be worried – Merlin can more than take care of himself – his advisor has never gone back on his word before.

He finally spots him weaving through the crowds at a jog, and his worries fade only to be replaced with annoyance as Merlin turns to talk to a young woman who's been following him – but then Arthur realises that she's been following him in the sense that they're deep in conversation and probably have been for a while now.

It's a serving girl, her hair bound up tightly, and she looks familiar but he can't place her. She's smiling coyly, her hand on his arm as they make their way up to the castle, and something tightens in Arthur's chest. Who does this girl think she is, talking to the advisor as though he were a close friend? He leans forward as they pass behind a house and when they come back into his sights, their arms are linked.

His hands are pressed into the cold stone, fingers twitching as he watches Merlin laugh with this attractive serving girl. And when the girl reaches up and brushes Merlin's hair from his forehead there's a resounding boom and the heavens open, the rain that's been holding for several days abruptly descending.

Arthur thinks that he hears the girl shriek from his post – they're close to the castle now – and Merlin just grins and makes to jog the rest of the short distance, and that's when the Prince feels a sense of foreboding ripple through himself. He thinks briefly that it might belong to Merlin before remembering that they're not linked any more, and he peers down at the two people.

The girl's gripping his arm now, quite tightly, and Merlin's grin is slowly fading. He clearly wants to get up and out of the cold but she's not letting him, and her voice is growing harsh though he can't hear the words, he knows that something's wrong. It's a gut feeling, and it scares him more than it should.

He's about to call down when the girl steps closer and wraps her arms around Merlin.

There's a whirl of rain and a flash of light, and then they're gone.

Arthur stares at the spot where they were standing for a few minutes until he feels the rain again, and then he slowly makes his way down from the tower.

The stone is glowing where his hands were pressed.

_A sudden disaster could roll from the sea_

_The earth could just open forget you and me_


	2. All The Miles That Separate

_All The Miles That Separate_

Arthur is quite drunk, but he's aware of it, so he can't be too far gone.

He is not impressed when Morgana knocks on his door rather loudly, asking where Merlin is because she needs some help with a bout of cockroaches in her bedroom. He may shout something inappropriate, he's not sure, but she comes storming in anyway and glares at him.

"You've been drinking."

"Observant, as ever."

"Why?"

Arthur doesn't really feel like responding to that, so he just stands slowly from where he's sat and makes his way over to his bed, and if he walks into a few things on the way, he doesn't take any notice. He collapses face-first on his bed and hears Morgana huff behind him.

"Merlin left me," he admits eventually, once she has stood unspeaking for a short while. "I was watching him, and a girl grabbed him and whisked him away using magic. That's something that I won't ever do again."

"A girl took him away?" Morgana repeats and he can hear her pacing though he's not looking at her. "When was this?"

"Oh, I forget," he says, waving a hand around. "Some time yesterday. Evening. I don't know. When it started raining."

"And you haven't thought of going after him?" she explodes suddenly, flinging herself across the room to thump him on the back. He emits a groan that turns into a hollow laugh, and she hits him again.

"Like he wants me to follow him. He's eloping with a sorceress. Can't you tell?"

"So you decided to drink yourself into a stupor whilst he could be hurt somewhere. Smart move," she shoots back acidly, standing and picking up the goblet of wine that he's left on the table.

"He didn't want to go with her, of course," he continues, and he thinks that he might be contradicting himself but he doesn't care, really. Merlin _left_ him. He's gone, and there's no filling the whole that's growing in his chest. Except with wine, perhaps. "She grabbed him and took him. But still. He's left me."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" Morgana snaps, wrenching open the curtains, and he watches dispassionately as she flings the remainder of the goblet outside. There's a disgruntled yell from below and she quickly withdraws from the window, and coming back over to Arthur, who's wriggled under the covers.

"He left with a sorceress because I haven't got magic any more," he grumbles, feeling the bed dip where she sits down, and then his blankets are torn away as her temper flares.

"Arthur, come on!" she spits, smacking his side. "You just told me that he seemed reluctant to stay with her and she took him against his wishes. She must have kidnapped him, or something! You have to find him and bring him home."

"What if he doesn't want to come home?" Arthur murmured, head pillowed on his hand, and Morgana sighed heavily.

"Arthur, I'm going to go away for a few hours. In that time, I expect you to drink some water, take a bath, and sober up," she says shortly, standing from the bed and re-adjusting her dress. "You're acting like an idiot, and you're making things up. Get yourself sorted out."

Arthur watches her glumly as she stalks out of the room and winces as she slams the door. He looks over at his goblet sat full of water on the table, and pulls himself upright.

**

When Morgana returns, he is sober and guilty and fully dressed, standing beside his armour with his back to her. She walks over to him, and isn't too surprised to see that he's shaking.

"Now you need to get ready and go and bring Merlin home," she informs him gently, and he turns to her, face drawn and upset.

"What if he doesn't want to come home, though? What if he'd rather stay with someone that can do magic?" Arthur whispers, hand resting on his sword hesitantly, and Morgana's fingers curl over his shoulder.

"Don't be so stupid, Arthur," she says bluntly, "Merlin loves you more than anything, he's too devoted to you. He wouldn't do something like this of his own volition."

"But how will I find him?" he asks, and his voice sounds strained even to his own ears. "God, I've left it so long… he could be anywhere by now. I've probably killed him."

"Merlin can look after himself for a while, but he needs you to find him."

Arthur looks at Morgana, really looks at her, and wonders how she ever became so astute having Uther as a guardian.

"Well then. I suppose I ought to get ready," he says awkwardly, and she makes to help him into his armour. He flinches and steps back, then looks at her as though to apologise and realises that he doesn't need to. She understands. Probably more than he does.

"Tell my father that I've gone on a hunting trip, and might be away for a few days. And that I've taken Merlin with me, so I'll be safe," he adds as he finishes adjusting his armour, reaching for his sword, but Morgana shakes her head defiantly.

"I'm coming with you."

Arthur starts, nearly dropping his sword as he lifts it, and stares at her in shock.

"Oh no. No, you're not," he says, quite firmly, turning away and strapping his belt on tightly. "This is far too dangerous. We don't know where he is, who he's with, or when I'll find him. You're staying at the castle."

"If you don't let me come with you, I'll tell Uther."

And Arthur whips around again to her, and her face is set and determined, but he laughs slightly.

"You do realise how childish you just sounded, don't you?" he points out, and her gaze falters slightly. "Besides, my father wouldn't be able to stop me even if you did tell him."

Morgana seems to consider this, and Arthur thinks that he might have convinced her as her face falls, but then she looks up at him and he can see that no matter what he says or does, she will follow him. This is something that she has decided, and he's not going to persuade her otherwise.

"Fine," he says quietly, stalking away from her towards the door. "But don't slow me down, and wear something sensible. We could be away for several days, and I don't want to have to explain your hypothermia to my father when we return."

She nods, and hurries from the room, keeping her head down. Arthur watches her dash down the corridor and wonders why she's so desperate to help Merlin, but pushes the thought aside because there are more pressing matters at hand.

He re-checks to make sure that he has all the equipment that he needs then closes the shutters on his window, locks the door between his chambers and Merlin's, then exits into the corridor. It's been nearly eighteen hours since Merlin was swept away in the rain and light and he hopes that he's not left it too late, and that his advisor will forgive him. That he will eventually forgive himself if he is too late.

As he makes his way toward the stables, the connecting door in his chambers swings open, and sparks of gold and red dance along the wood.

_Everything I know, and anywhere I go  
It gets hard but it won't take away my love  
_


	3. Interlude: Visions Of The Things To Be

_Visions of the Things to Be_

Morgana would like to think that she knows Arthur quite well.

She's lived with him for several years now, and they're quite close to being actual siblings. They bicker, they mock each other, they play favourites with Uther, and they support each other and love each other.

She knows when Arthur is doing something that he'd rather not, but will because it's the right thing or he's honour-bound. She equally knows when he's doing something that he really shouldn't be but he's going to do it anyway.

This is one of those times.

But it's an extreme version – now that he's sober and actually thinking straight, he's set and fiercely determined to the point where he doesn't even comment on her clothes. He did say to wear sensible clothes, and she couldn't think of anything more practical than leather breeches and high boots and a warm tunic. Yes, they're men's clothes, but she's had them altered to fit her frame in the hope that one say she'd be able to go off with Arthur on one of his outings and they've been in her wardrobe for a while now.

Arthur says nothing as they hurry down the stairs and out towards the stables as the midday sun hangs low in the winter sky, just grunts once or twice, hoisting himself up onto his stallion and not waiting for her before making his way out into the courtyard. She feels a pang of annoyance, but then remembers why he's acting this way, and forgives him.

She always does, in the end.

**

Morgana follows him for several hours, sometimes at a walk and sometimes at a canter as they make their way across the kingdom, the light slowly fading. She has no idea how he knows which way to go but he's only faltered twice, and both times it's been a fleeting moment and he's quickly picked up the pace once more.

"Do you know where you're going?" she asks after several hours, pulling level with him for the first time, and he ducks beneath a branch.

"I have no idea," he admits, not taking his eyes off his route, and she feels her eyes shoot up.

"So how do you know that we're going the right way?" she points out, and he just shrugs, he face relaxed but intense.

"I just know. I can't explain it, I just… I can feel him," he replies, voice barely above a whisper, a small frown creasing his forehead. "I don't know why – he took my magic, there's nothing left between us any more."

"But you still love him?"

"More than anything."

And Morgana knew the answer to that, of course, but she needs to make sure that Arthur knows too. It's worth repeating nearly every minute of the day if just to confirm it in his mind.

"Well then. Maybe that's how you know."

Arthur nods, and Morgana knows that somehow, he's refusing to see the real reason even though it's quite plain to her.

**

The only reason Arthur agrees to rest for the night is because Morgana dismounts from her horse and refuses to move.

He wants to keep moving through the night, and she doesn't blame him of course, but she knows that he'll be of no use to Merlin exhausted and drained. He relents, after a long argument, and then he's asleep within half an hour. She makes a mental note to mock him for it when this is all over.

Morgana dreams.

She dreams of all-consuming light, white and gold and red, and two hearts beating in time with each other. She dreams of time, stretching out before her and strands of light add to it for a short while before flickering away, fading and disappearing before sometime rippling back in to entwine with another. There are only that stay tangled and perfect until the end.

Morgana knows what it is that she dreams of.

She's not sure what wakes her later, if it's the hooting owls or the gentle breeze, but there's an almost unnatural light coming from Arthur so she sits up and looks over at him, and is entranced.

Sparks are flickering over his fingers, and there's a small glowing ball of light rolling gently in his palm. He's whispering one word over and over and over and she doesn't need to get any closer to know what it is.

She remembers something that Arthur said to her when Merlin was poisoned and smiles, then lays back down and closes her eyes.

When she wakes in the morning, the light is gone. She says nothing about it.

**

As midday rolls around the next day, Arthur stops in front of a large cave and dismounts, tying his horse off at a nearby tree. Morgana follows suit, and Arthur pauses several metres away. She remembers, again, what he told her about Merlin's poisoning and his consequent mission and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"He's in there," Arthur says simply, and unsheathes his sword. "I want you to stay out here, and promise that you won't come in after me. Whoever has taken him is powerful and you'll only be in danger. This is my fight."

Morgana considers protesting, but then sees the look in his eyes and changes her mind. He's right – this is something that he has to do himself. And if there is any trouble, his own magic merged with Merlin's and their love will be enough.

"Be careful," she replies and he smiles, his eyes full of confidence and there might be a spark of gold in there too. But she could be imagining it.

"I'm not leaving without him," he murmurs, looking at the darkness ahead of him. "I've let him down once. I'll not be doing it again."

Morgana nods, hoping that he understands what's happening to him but thinking that he probably doesn't. But he'll work it out in time, hopefully.

She watches him walk into the cave and hopes that she's right.

_The sword of time will pierce our skins_

_It doesn't hurt when it begins_


	4. The Challenge Of Our Rival

_The Challenge Of Our Rival_

Arthur isn't sure what he's expecting, but it's not what he finds.

When he enters the large cavern after traipsing through passages and tunnels for a short while, it's to see Merlin stood up against one wall whilst the serving girl that had taken him away is peering into what appears to be a bowl full of water. Merlin notices him, of course – he always does – and he smiles, but it's a crooked smile because he's clearly in pain, and Arthur feels a flush of hot anger.

The girl looks up just as Arthur begins to descend towards Merlin, and he's being as quiet as possible but clearly is wasn't quiet enough, and whilst she looks momentarily shocked, she recovers quickly.

"You're the last person I expected to see here," she remarks, but Arthur isn't listening. He's staring at Merlin, who's staring back.

"You came," the warlock whispers, and even from across the cavern Arthur can hear him and his heart breaks a little. He makes to go to him, but the girl acts first.

"I never said that you could speak, Emrys," she says coldly, and Merlin says nothing else. She has spelled him silent. Arthur hears a deep, animalistic growl and realises just a little too late that it came from him as he glares at her, but nothing more. She is powerful – he is not. He will be killed if he attempts anything, he knows this, and then he will be of no use to Merlin at all.

Then as she stares right back at him her face shifts, but not completely – it just becomes some sort of strange amalgamation that isn't quite one and isn't quite another, and when he concentrates too hard he can't see it at all. But it's enough. He knows who it is.

"You're the one that poisoned him," he snarls, and she nods, her face full of satisfaction.

"I have many names," she acknowledges, and tilts her head to one side. "But your father knows me as Nimueh."

She raises a hand suddenly and he finds himself flung against the cold damp wall, rocks digging into his back and one has drawn blood. He tries to move but can't – she has him frozen, the same as Merlin.

"Let him go," Arthur orders, though he knows that he's in no position to be making demands, and she simply quirks an eyebrows at him. He feels his heart sink, and knows that this will not end well.

"I have a score to settle with Merlin. I may as well do it now, whilst I have you here watching, Unable to look away," she says with a startling finality, and though he strains against the invisible bonds, he cannot break them. He may look desperate but he doesn't care, because he is.

"Please don't hurt him," he begs, and she looks at him with what could be wonderment. "Do whatever you want to me but please, _please_ don't hurt him."

She pauses before replying, her face carefully composed, her hand still outstretched towards Merlin.

"If only your father knew that you were capable of such love," she replies quietly, then her face contorts and she turns to the warlock as she screams out a spell.

Arthur doesn't move, though he's screaming in his head, but then he can't because Nimueh has him pinned to the wall. There are sparks fizzling over Merlin's skin and his face is screwed up in pain, and Arthur wants nothing more than to pull his advisor into his arms and strike down the sorceress but he can't, he can't save Merlin.

Something deep within him that's been growing slowly without him noticing explodes in a burst of gold and red.

It's a ring of burning light than robs him of his breath, and his eyes roll up but he forces himself to watch as it crashes through the cave, knocking Nimueh off her feet and releasing Merlin from her hold. His advisor drops like a stone, and Arthur realises that he can move again – he's on his knees at Merlin's side before the magic has begun to fade, still bright and powerful in the room with them.

He feels Nimueh fire a spell at his back but it doesn't affect him, just bounces off, but he's not concerned with that because Merlin's breathing is shallow and there are faint scars littering his face that shouldn't be there. Then his eyes open, shining gold, and Arthur releases a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, and something within him snaps.

He's whirling up to his feet, a spell forming in on his tongue and hand outstretched even as he feels Merlin's gentle touch on his knee, even as he knows that this shouldn't even be _possible_, but as his own spell hurtles through the air it's met by Nimueh's own and they form a shimmering barrier, both equally strong, a shield between them. Arthur's glaring at her, but she's smiling at him. A cold smile.

"I had wondered when this day would come, Arthur Pendragon," she says, sounding amused. Arthur starts forward, fully determined to charge her on principle, magic be damned, but he feels Merlin's hand on his shoulder and turns to him.

The warlock's face is drawn and pained, and he's wincing and holding his stomach with his free hand, but his eyes are clear and full of something that Arthur can't decipher. But he wraps an arm around his waist to support him anyway as he turns back to Nimueh, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Explain yourself," he says shortly, not daring to say anything more, and feels Merlin shaking against his side.

"Your innate magic, of course," she replies derisively, stepping down to stand just on the other side of the barrier, just out of reach. "I had wondered when it would manifest."

"This is a result of Merlin's transfer of magic to me, nothing more, though we had believed it gone," he points out, already getting angry and annoyed and he just wants to _get Merlin home_. Then he feels a flood of love and gratitude, and he knows exactly where it's coming from.

"Oh no, little Prince," she hisses, her face shifting once more, and he frowns. "Your father never told you the truth about your birth, did he? About how your mother died?"

"My mother died in childbirth," he barks, holding Merlin more securely, and she throws her head back and laughs loudly.

"That's true, I suppose. But the truth of your birth is that you were created from magic, Arthur Pendragon – you were created in a place where no child could be conceived and in giving you life, Igraine lost hers."

"Don't you dare spread such lies about her!" he spits, and there's a spell forming again but it's stopped by Merlin's calming hand on his chest.

"It's true, Arthur," he says in a strained voice, almost as though he'd rather not admit it, and honestly how would he know? The Prince feels his own face drawing in as he stares down at his advisor, and his voice is low.

"How do you know this?"

"Gaius told me, a while ago. He said that he couldn't take the secret to the grave. All Nimueh did was confirm it."

And Merlin looks so miserable and hurt and apologetic and there are ripples of despair there too, and Arthur could never be angry with him anyway. So instead he looks up to Nimueh, and his eyes may be glowing, but they don't feel golden like Merlin's do.

"You're going to regret ever taking Merlin from me," he says quietly, but there must be something in his voice that's dangerous because her confidence falters a little and so does her side of the barrier, the magic shimmering and edging just that little bit closer to her.

"Don't be so stupid," she growls, but her tone is belied by the fear in her eyes. "You don't have half the power that I do."

"You're right," he replies, quite simply, advancing towards her. "But I'm drawing on Merlin's power now, and he's twice as powerful as you."

And with that, Nimueh seems to realise that she will die if she stays any longer and with the same whirl and flash of light she disappears, taking her magic with her, and Arthur's own original spell rushes to hit the opposite wall with a rumble. There is silence.

Then Merlin crumples, all his remaining energy gone, and he would fall to the floor if it weren't for Arthur's arms already around him, easing him down gently. If he's been bleeding, he's stopped, but there are still tiny scars all over him that Arthur doesn't recognise and he's pale and shivering and drained.

Arthur feels something clench around in his chest and he gathers the other man up in his arms, shifting him so that if he wakes he'll be more comfortable, and looks around the room. He has no idea what she had been doing to him before he turned up. He possibly never will.

He looks down at Merlin, at his beaten body, at his own glowing hands curled around the young man, and closes his eyes as a tear threatens to escape. It doesn't manage it.

Arthur tightens his grip on his warlock and begins the trek back to Morgana.

_Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past  
You must fight just to keep them alive _


	5. My Salvation

_My Salvation_

When he finally exits the cave, Merlin cradled in his arms, Morgana has been pacing back and forth for so long that she's worn a shallow trench into the ground. He is entirely unsurprised.

She sees them as they approach the low entrance and immediately rushes towards them, eyes wide and frantic, and Arthur gently pulls Merlin out of her reach. She doesn't look offended, but as she reaches them she stops and stares. He's aware that he might be glowing slightly, but he's not bothered.

"We need to get home as fast as possible," he says quietly, passing her and heading towards his stallion. "I don't know what she did to him. Gaius will be best suited to helping him."

"From the looks of it, I'd say you're the best person," she replies, still looking at him warily, but he hasn't time to explain. He reaches his horse as Merlin stirs, moaning, and flinching. Morgana's at his side in a flash. Merlin murmurs a word, and they both know what he's saying.

"Merlin, I need you to stand up," Arthur says quietly, setting him on his feet, and Morgana supports him as he slumps in the cold air. He's shivering.

"Hurry up," she urges and Arthur hoists himself onto his horse, settling himself before reaching a hand down and between them, he and his sister managed to get the unresisting warlock sat up in front of him. He's barely conscious.

"_B__eðeþ_," Arthur whispers, one hand coming around to rest on Merlin's stomach, and he feels the warmth spreading immediately. Morgana's look is still inscrutable as she mounts her own horse, drawing close to them.

"He's not going to make it through the night," she whispers, and Arthur's arm tightens as he pulls Merlin more securely against his chest. He shakes his head.

"So we'll be back before dawn."

And he reaches out his free hand and lays it on the flank of Morgana's horse, and red sparks skitter down from his skin to the hooves. She watches wordlessly as he does the same to his own, and there's a determined set to his eyes as he grips the reins with one hand.

"Arthur?"

And the Prince urges his horse forward and with a crackling of magic, he's barrelling through the forest faster than he should be able to. He can hear Morgana behind him as they both hurtle through the trees with the wind in their hair and the stars bright above them, and he's intensely aware of Merlin's warmth seeping through their clothes and into his skin.

**

Arthur is right, as it happens, and as they crest the hill and Camelot comes into view, the sun begins to rise over the opposite horizon. During their ride Merlin drifted into consciousness only three more times, each to groan and mutter and whimper until Arthur whispered nonsense in his ear, pressing his lips to his hair, until he calmed and slipped under once more. Each time, Morgana looked at him and each time, he ignored her.

The guards don't even try to stop them as they thunders€ through the town and up to the castle and across the courtyard, don't react as Morgana slips from her mount and helps ease Merlin down whilst Arthur sorts himself.

They get a few odd looks as they hurry along to Gaius' chambers, both because Arthur is carrying Merlin once again and because Morgana is still wearing her soft leather breeches, but he doesn't have _time_ to pay attention to their stares.

Then he's bursting into Gaius' chambers in an all too familiar way, but this time Merlin's in his arms and Morgana is at his feet and poor Gaius certainly wasn't expecting this, but he puts his shock aside and indicates to the nearby bed.

"On there."

Arthur lays him down gently and then brushes his hair from his face, fingers tracing the minute silvery scars there. He's aware of Morgana watching him, and Gaius appears at his elbow.

"What happened?"

"Nimueh."

And Gaius needs no more explanation, because he immediately sets about preparing herbs and fluids, whilst Morgana hovers halfway to the door and Arthur keeps touching Merlin, fingers just brushing his skin, reassuring himself that he's there. That he's safe.

"Will he be all right, Gaius?" he asks impatiently, glancing down at the warlock, and the physician grunts from across the room.

"He's drained – physically, mentally and magically. I don't know what curses she's used on him , or if there will be any lasting effects, but I will do all that I can."

"Not good enough," Arthur snaps, fingers closing on Merlin's shoulder, and he can see Morgana frowning in the corner of his eye but he's beyond caring. "If you can't guarantee his health then I'll use magic on him myself. You needn't bother."

"Arthur, don't be ridiculous," Morgana says sharply with a roll of her eyes and he whips around to glare at her.

"You're not inside his head, _you_ don't know what it's like!" he barks. "I can feel his pain, his confusion, and I'll be damned if I don't help him through this."

"Sire, you must let me attend to him…"

"Only if you promise that he'll be OK!"

There's a heavy silence and Gaius just looks at him, as though he can see right through him. Arthur's breathing heavily and his eyes are wide and staring and flaring with red-gold sparks. And there is a reason why the physician has been employed by his father for so long.

"Sire, you are of no help to him in this state. Go with Morgana, and when you are calm, you may return. Until then I request that you leave me to treat Merlin," he says firmly, and Arthur feels like a child again. He leaves with Morgana without another word.

Just a single backward glance at Merlin.

**

When Gaius does eventually allow him back into his chambers an hour later, the physician has clearly been working solidly and he looks tired. Arthur passes him without speaking and goes straight to Merlin's room, where he knows that the warlock will be. He has to know what Nimueh did to hurt him. He needs to know so that he can exact the appropriate revenge.

He walks in without knocking, sees Merlin sitting on his bed, the bruises on his chest where it's bare, but he doesn't take it in. He doesn't take anything in except that Merlin is _hurt_, and someone's going to pay for it.

"Merlin, what happened in there?" he asks, and whilst he tries to make his tone undemanding it probably doesn't work, because Merlin flinches and turns his face away. But Arthur isn't thinking straight, and doesn't realise what it means.

"Not now, Arthur…"

"Yes now, Merlin," he snaps in return, stepping up to the bed and grabbing Merlin's shoulders forcefully. "I want to know what she was doing to you, if she hurt you!"

"Arthur, get off me!" Merlin hisses, wincing in pain but the Prince is blinded.

"Tell me what she did to you!"

"I said get _off_!"

There's a flash of red and gold and Arthur is thrown away from him, hands burning where they were touching the bare skin and he blinks in shock. Then he realises what he was doing, takes in the bruises littering Merlin's skin and the anger in his eyes and his body sags.

Merlin lays down on the old, uncomfortable bed and rolls over, presenting his back to Arthur. If it were anyone else he might be offended, but in this case he doesn't. Because he can feel Merlin's despair now, like he hasn't been able to for a while, and he crosses the room towards him.

All his breath leaves him as he settles down onto the bed behind Merlin, all the fight and all the anger and he's just tired. Tired of everything. He turns his head to the side and glances at his advisor's back, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," he whispers, turning back to stare up at the ceiling. The stones are rough and mossy and damp, and he feels more than hears Merlin sigh.

"I know. It's fine. But… just, can't it wait until morning?" he replies, and it's so close to a plea that Arthur feels his heart break, again. Merlin seems to have that effect on him.

He doesn't respond – instead, he just turns and wraps an arm around Merlin's waist, pulling him to his chest and pressing his face into his hair, just as they were on the horse. He feels his advisor's whole body relax, then Merlin's hand comes to cover his where it lays over his heart.

"Thank you for coming for me," the warlock murmurs, his voice drowsy and tired and Arthur feels an immediate rush of guilt that he hopes Merlin's too out of it to understand. He's probably not.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes as he feels the other man drift off, and buries his face in his neck.

He closes his eyes against the world on concentrates on the feeling of Merlin against him, magic glowing within him and lengthening the day, pushing back the time when they will wake. Giving him a little more time here, with him.

_Just hold me close inside your arms tonight  
Don't be too hard on my emotions_


	6. The World Will Follow After

_The World Will Follow After_

When Arthur wakes, his face is pressed into Merlin's chest and he can hear the warlock's heart beat out a steady rhythm in time with his own. Sunlight is still pouring in through the window though it's fading, and he opens his eyes to see Merlin awake and staring at the ceiling.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and the warlock starts slightly.

"Better, thanks," he says quietly, and looks down at the Prince. "I don't suppose you could sit up or something? My arm's gone dead."

Arthur yawns widely and pushes himself up, running a hand through his hair as Merlin shakes his arm out. The bruises that littered his chest are nearly completely gone, though he still looks tired and the minute scars are still dusted over his face. He wants to ask, but knows better now. But apparently Merlin is in a sharing mood.

"She told me about your own magic," he supplies as he sits up against the headboard, and Arthur copies him for ease of discussion. "About her side of the story, of her part in your birth. She was also pretty annoyed that I kept on foiling her plans to kill both you and your father. That's what the whole revenge thing was about."

Arthur reaches up and brushes his fingers across the silvery marks on Merlin's skin and the warlock flinches almost imperceptibly before leaning into the touch. He drops his hand.

"She was angry. She kept lashing out at me with magic – those are the result of burning ashes that she cast at me. They don't hurt," he added, guessing what Arthur was thinking. "They just look awful."

"They don't."

Merlin's lips quirk up at that, but he doesn't respond directly.

"I realised that your own magic is probably what's been protecting you from my own – acting as a buffer or something, somehow. It makes sense. Keeping that small amount of magic within you, having it grow until it was so powerful, should have killed you."

"So what, you knew that you'd not stripped me of the magic?" he asks, slightly bitter, and Merlin shrugs widely.

"I knew, I think. Sometimes you'd do little bits of magic that nobody else would notice, and you certainly didn't. Or I'd feel something within you reacting when I used magic around you. But I was never sure, and I wanted to be before I said anything."

"You lied to me."

"_Never_," Merlin hisses, jumping up and grabbing him by the shoulders. "I did this to _protect_ you, Arthur. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. You should know that by now."

Arthur looks up at him, and Merlin's glaring right down at him, and of course Arthur knows this. He always has, he realises, and looks away.

"I do. I just… it scared me. I was being irrational and when I saw you with Nimueh, when she took you away, I convinced myself that you'd gone with her willingly because she was magical and I wasn't. Which is why I took so long to come and find you. And I'm sorry."

Merlin sighs, releasing his grip and sitting back down, shoulders pressed together.

"I assume you know by now that I'd never do anything like that?" he queries, and Arthur nods.

"You have Morgana to thank for that. She was quite brutal with me. But that, coupled with seeing you helpless whilst she hurt you… I don't know. I was furious."

"But I'm fine now," Merlin points out, and the light shines of the tiny scars over his cheeks. "Gaius healed me, and I'm back home with you, where I belong. There's nothing to worry about."

And Arthur knows this, but he still feels as though something's been ripped out of his chest. He feels vulnerable, telling him this much – as though he's opened himself up and now he's just waiting. But it's a good feeling too, it's liberating, so he finishes what he's started.

"I can't lose you, Merlin," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares at the floor. "You mean far too much to me."

Merlin says nothing for too long, and Arthur continues to stare downward as he waits for his advisor to just _say_ something. He doesn't, but he shifts and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the Prince into his side, and presses his lips to his temple.

"Are you going to take my magic from me?" he asks, his voice barely a whispers, and Merlin nods slowly.

"And you know why. This isn't something that I want to do, Arthur."

Arthur raises a hand to his face and scrubs at his eyes. He's been dreading this since he realised that he still had some magic within him, and whilst he knows that Merlin would let him keep it if he could, he knows that it has to be done.

He starts when he feels the crackling of magic in his hand and pulls it away from his face – Merlin's fingers are inches away from his, and sparks are flying between them in flashes of red and gold. He feels himself smiling despite himself.

"You see?" the warlock says quietly, twitching his hand to vary the flow of magic. "You have your own, and it belongs to you. I'd never take that away – I just need to remove my own. It's still too dangerous for you. Short times are fine, but for too long and you'll burn up."

Arthur knows that he's right, but still – the idea of losing the magic _again_, after only just getting it back, is painful. Even though he knows he won't be completely without magic because he has his own, royal crimson and thrumming, but it's not the same. Sharing Merlin's magic is like sharing a part of his advisor's heart and soul and he doesn't want to give that up.

"You're sure I can't persuade you otherwise?" he asks hopefully, and Merlin shakes his head.

"But last time I was unsuccessful in taking it all away, I couldn't even managed that. So I'll be keeping an eye out this time, just in case."

Arthur pulls a face as though to protest, even though he mentally agreed to this a while ago, and he knows that Merlin knows. Merlin always knows.

"So how do we do this then?" he asks, voice rough, because he's not looking forward to it. "Spell? Potion? How?"

"How did you think I removed my magic from you in the first place?" Merlin asks, a smirk beginning to form, and Arthur can't help but smile, even though he has no idea what the answer is. What else could it have been if not a potion or incantation or something similar?

Then suddenly Merlin right in front of him and kissing him, right there in his bedroom. Only Arthur realises that he isn't really kissing him when he feels the magic being pulled out of him, sparking out through his eyes and into Merlin's as their lips touch, the other man holding onto Arthur's tunic for support as the power floods into him.

And then the flow of gold stops, but Merlin doesn't. And Arthur feels warm hands on his face and the warlock's lips curling into a smile, arms around him, clutching and never wanting to let go. He can sense Merlin's power, taste the magic on his lips and tongue, feel it thrumming through them both as they stand there, wrapped up in each other. And damn it, it all feels so _right_, and they're no longer trying to remove the Merlin's magic.

Merlin pulls away, almost reluctantly, and presses his forehead to Arthur's as his breathing comes heavily. His eyes were glowing. And maybe Arthur's are too, or maybe it's just his whole being.

"You're not losing me," his advisor breathes, magic fizzling between their skin, hands still spread across each other's backs. "I'm not going to leave you."

And Arthur believes that – and he smiles, nodding ever so slightly, and pulls Merlin against himself and into an embrace. He holds on tight and prays for this to never end.

**

The sun begins to set outside as Arthur and Merlin walk back to their own chambers, and the sky is streaked with red and gold.

An approving rumble echoes up from the bowels of the castle.

_These lines of lightning mean we're never alone  
Never alone_


End file.
